


I was in Darkness, so Darkness I Became

by Ephermeral



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Angst, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Fluff, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Eventual Smut, F/M, Jealous, Multi, Protective Bucky Barnes, Why lmao, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, abs of emotional instability, amirite, but cute, hell yah, thighs of betrayal, winter soldier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-05 10:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 16,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6701548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ephermeral/pseuds/Ephermeral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the winter of 1945, the air stirred with the loss of James Buchanan Barnes - a warm spirit with a face to match. In the spring of many years after, a relationship rekindled with the light of a long extinguished flame, ignited once again. However, Barnes is not the person he used to be. And when a girl thaws his heart, hardened by winter, there was no avoiding her magnetic pull.</p><p>*I do not own the characters, all characters belong to the Marvel universe*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Serenity

A man, whose troubled face was hidden beneath a hoodie as black as night, walked aimlessly through the streets. His feet taking him to no particular location except away. Though not the physical kind of away, the mental kind. The kind that can only be seen as redemption. Of course, this man had also thought about taking his own life to relieve the pain, but thought better of it, and figured that one day this pain will be something of the past.

Hesitantly taking one foot in front of another, he found himself in an alleyway. Blue eyes searching the darkness for any threats, when confirmed, he continued on his way. That was until he heard the sound of a door opening. Quickly, he scurried behind the nearest object and crouched behind it, not sure why he was hiding, but his instincts told him to do so, and so he did. The soft humming of a woman who didn’t look a day above 20, walked into his view, ensnaring his senses with the subtle aroma of midnight orchids. Such a sweet smell, he thought to himself, although previously he had no interest for different aromas. But this particular lady had his mind going crazy.

The woman hummed to herself as she threw a black bag into a green bin and hastily closed the lid before looking left and right and heading back inside the door. The man crouched behind the garbage stood up and for a fleeting moment considered walking into the door where the lady had disappeared, but shrugged it off carelessly, and continued on his way through the dark night.

Inside the door, you stood staring out passed the empty streets, with a milkshake in one hand, and your phone in the other. It was 9pm on a Saturday and you were still at this god forsaken place that you call work. Why your boss made you stay out until 9, you have no idea. It wasn’t like customers kept coming in every minute. Sipping slowly on your milkshake, you turn your gaze to your phone, focusing on the news headlines about politics and blah blah, but it kept you occupied. As a single woman, you’d think you’d be out with the rest of your single friends on a Saturday night, but instead, you chose to stay and become an antisocial hermit.

Nearing the time to close up the shop, you squealed in joy, getting up to pack your bags and push your chair in. After turning out the lights and shutting the front door, you made your way through the night, taking quick steps to your car in fear of being approached.

Jumping into the drivers seat you drove off, singing to rock songs as you came to a stop light. A man hidden beneath a hoodie began to cross the road, looking up only to lock eyes with you for a second before looking down and continuing. The dullness in his eyes were unmissable, and there was something in them that gave you the bad kind of chills. As the light turned green, you happily obliged to drive off towards your apartment complex.

Plopping down on your soft couch you bought on impulse whilst shopping in ikea, you reached into the bag of doritos and ate to your hearts content, only interrupted when a text message from your boss which asked you to work tomorrow.

“Well shit,” you muttered to yourself, curling up into a ball and closing your eyes. You might as well have a moment of bliss before you walk into hell tomorrow.

When the soft rays of sun broke into your living room, you didn’t awake, rather when the blaring sound of the recent panic at the disco album played, you could say that you indeed, panicked. Running frantically around your apartment grabbing your keys, purse, a jacket, a notebook, a bottle of water and your earphones, you ran out of the house jumping straight into your car. After plugging the key into the ignition, you turned it hurriedly, only to be met with the unfamiliar sounds of engine failure.  
“Why today!” You exclaimed, adding a string of curse words as you hit the steering wheel repeatedly. After just having bought your car and finally finishing furnishing your apartment, this is how life bites you in the bum. You continue to hit the steering wheel in hopes that it would automatically feel your pain, and empathise with you and then turn on, but the odds of an inanimate object suddenly feeling human empathy is 0.  
Jumping out your car door, you decide on walking to work, or taking the scenic route as you call it. Your heels hit the pavement in a rhythmic beat only paused with the stopping at the pedestrian crossing. You fix yourself up by running a hand through your short hair, and straightening your midi dress. You crossed the road, looking into your bag for your sunglasses when you were hit in the shoulder by a passing pedestrian. Looking up to say sorry, even though it wasn’t your fault, you were met with the blue eyes you had undoubtedly seen the other day. His height and his soulless stare were seemingly intimidating, although you dismissed these facts and took in his mangled appearance, before looking down at his arm and noticing the silver glint it had caught by the sharp rays of the sun. He noticed your stare and only pushed his hand further in his pocket. But the man was confused. He was confused as to why you didn’t start running when you had seen his arm. He was confused how you had stopped to say sorry even though you didn’t do anything wrong. And he was confused by the familiarity of the soft aroma he smelled around you.  
You straightened your bag before meeting his strong gaze again. “Sorry, I was walking mindlessly,” you mumbled, clicking your heels and walking off, picking up the same rhythmic pattern as you had previously, thinking only of how the mans mangled appearance clashed with the confusion written all over his face.  
Putting the key into the lock, and opening the door to what was hell to you but a milkshake bar to everyone else. You close the door carefully behind you, going to do some last minute tidying up before you opened up the store. All the while thinking about the mans blue eyes and him solemn appearance. It took you a minute to realise you were trying to put a glass on the blender stand.  
“Wow, what a great morning,” you mumble to yourself as your co-worker walked in, not saying anything to you, but there was a silent mutual agreement that neither of you wanted to be there.


	2. Stay

A yelp from outside alerted the both of you that something was wrong outside. You burst through the door to witness the scene of the man you had been thinking about all morning, with a silver fist aimed at what looked like a body-builder, who already had a red lump forming against his jaw. You looked at the man with the silver fist’s facial expression. And it seems your initial impression of him was correct, he was in fact cold and lifeless, but there was something else about him you couldn’t pin point. Was it the fact that he didn’t hurt you? Was it the fact that although his stare was dull, his expression was confused?  
You ran toward the two, not knowing of a better solution and took a breath. “Hey,” You said so quietly it almost sounded like a prayer. “Hey, don’t do this,” You tried again, hoping your voice wouldn’t fail you. The man against the wall was breathing heavily, and so was the man with the silver hand. Though there was a sense of madness to his breathing pattern. His fist faltered, eyes flicking up to see you for a moment before dropping both hands to his side. You were in awe at how so little words would stop a crazed punching spree. The man against the wall scurried away, stumbling over his feet a couple of times before regaining his balance, and running off into the distance.  
Taking small steps towards the man with a silver fist, you noticed how his crazed breathing became rugged, and instead of anger on his face, was replaced with fear as he stared at his own arm. Not knowing how close you should be to him, but strangely enough, not scared at all, you crouched down next to his innocent form with a hand against his shoulder. Weird, you thought to yourself. You were helping the attacker and not the victim. “Hey are you ok?” You asked before your hand was brutally shoved away by his other metal one. This did not deter the need to help him. “Did you want something to eat? Drink?” You questioned again. This question however got his attention as he looked up from under his lashes, though most of his features were masked by the thick hoodie he wore. A glint of red caught your eye, and you craned your neck to see beneath his hoodie to check out the damage. With tentative hands, you grasped both sides of his hoodie and pulled it down before also taking off his cap. Not once did you feel his gaze leave you, but that didn’t worry you. What did was the large gash above his brow, bleeding profusely down his face. You gasped audibly, freaking out in the moment, and murmuring to yourself.  
“oh my god,” You repeated several times before realising the smartest thing to do would be to get the first aid kit. “Come with me,” You said tugging at his arm. You both got up and you hauled him by the sleeve to the milkshake bar, and sat him on one of the stools by the window. You ran behind the counter to grab the first aid kit, before running back and almost tripping over a metal ice-cream scoop you must’ve dropped on the ground. “Oh my god where is the antiseptic,” you cried, fumbling through the kit. The man watched you intently, with nothing but calmness written on his face. You found a cotton swab and the antiseptic and did a victory dance before realising that the man was still bleeding, looking very unaware that he was doing so, and on top of that, just caught you doing your top secret victory dance. “Ok sorry, this might sting,” you warned, dabbing at the wound to clean it before cleaning it with the antiseptic. You moved closer to blow on the gash, deciding now you should probably find out what his name was. “So what’s your name?”  
You didn’t expect a response, so you continued talking. “Well my name is (y/n), and well, I work here, and life pretty much sucks, so thank you for something eventful.” You said without really thinking. This was followed by you physically slapping your forehead, “ Nope, oh my gosh, I didn’t mean it like that, I mean I didn’t want you to get hurt I just…”  
“Bucky?” He said in a low gruff unsure voice, as if asking himself if this really was him.  
“Bucky? Is that your name, or…” you began, shocked at how he began to talk to you. You were answered with the frantic nodding of his head, and you smiled in response.  
“Well how do you do, Bucky,” You said cheerfully, hoping your uplifting energy will rub off onto him. Carefully you put the Band-Aid over the wound, gently pressing the sides down with your thumbs. There was a long pause before he answered you.  
“lost,” he answered.  
Confused with what sounded like a cryptic answer, you started to pack up the first aid equipment but then realised the other cuts on his face. With a shaky hand you traced them, feeling the bumps beneath your fingers, coupled with the prickliness of his stubble. This time however, Bucky didn’t stop your initiated physical contact, instead he watched as your eyes worriedly scanned over the imperfections on his face, your head tilting to the side, only to find more cuts hidden behind his stubble.  
“Thank you,” Bucky whispered.  
With a jolt, you realised what you were doing, jumped and snatched your hand back, muttering something that sounded like an apology, and something that sounded like food. And Bucky found himself smiling crookedly for the first time in a long time.

You ran into the kitchen, where your co-worker sat sleepily beside a whirring blender. No questions was asked as you made a fruit smoothie for Bucky. Taken aback by your own actions, you found yourself staring at the blender as it churned the fruits into a delectable drink, which was one of the favourites amongst the limited amount of customers you got. You thought about the way his confused yet fearful gaze followed your every move, and how his face was covered in cuts, which looked frighteningly recent. You couldn’t help but think that you’ve helped a bad person. Then you remember his quick change of demeanor, and realise that this isn’t a man you should be afraid of, this is a man you should help.  
After filling a glass to the brim with the smoothie, you stuck a straw in it and took it out to Bucky. Your face turned a shade of red as you neared him, unable to meet his gaze for fear of embarrassment. “Here’s your smoothie,” You said, a bit too fast, if Bucky hadn’t been so attentive, he would’ve missed it. You placed the smoothie down in front of him and began to walk off. Which you would have if the not subtle tugging at your wrist wasn’t present. Your eyes looked down at your wrist and followed the arm until you met his gaze.  
“Stay.” He said softly, his grip on your wrist lessening as you made your way onto the seat opposite. Wanting nothing more than to just oblige to the seemingly harmless order. You fumbled with your hands, touching the skin where he held on to you, the memory stirring a flutter in your stomach. You watched, mouth agape, as he drank the smoothie, ignoring the straw, and gulping it down in a record time of 6 seconds. A murmured hum of approval enlightened your senses, as he tried to get every drop of the smoothie into his mouth.  
“I’ll take this then,” you say swiftly taking the glass from his hand and putting it in the sink. You were about to make a new smoothie when the bell signalling the door had been opened went off. And instead of harbouring new customers, you were left with an empty bar, with no Bucky.  
You continue the rest of your day in as happily as you could, after the feeling of rejection starting settling in. Not that you had been rejected, just that you enjoyed the company of someone for the first time in a long time, and they had left you before having a proper talk.


	3. And Super you are

You were walking home after a long day at work, the dark night doing nothing to ease your fear. Usually you had sanctuary to run to, aka. Your baby car. But the damned thing decides to break down when you need it. So her you found yourself pulling your jacket harder around you, and wrapping your arms over yourself. Its been a weird day you say to yourself picking up your pace, your heels clicking as they made contact with the pavement. The more you thought about today, the more questions you had.  
The 15 minute walk back from your house was beginning to feel like it’ll take an hour, with the way the wind blew wisps of hair around, and how the cold penetrated through the warmth of your blouse. As if on cue with your thoughts, your heel of your new shoes broke, leaving you with a girls worst nightmare. Crying out in anger, you limped toward your apartment with a permanent scowl on your face.

In the shadows, Bucky had found salvation amongst the park bench and some trees, when a cry brought him back to reality. The voice felt as though it were calling out to him, and he picked up his things and followed the sound, only to find you limping toward an unknown destination. Bucky frowned when he realised how late it was, and wondered why you were walking home unaccompanied, before he realised that he, himself, unknowingly was following behind (y/n) with the same excruciatingly slow pace. That was, until a masked man came to grasp her handbag, pulling with such a great force that you had almost fell to the ground. Bucky was quick, he started to run, furious that someone was trying to hurt such a kind person, but he stopped, when the image of you, in your heel-less shoe state, dropped your body to the floor, forcing the release of the mans grip on your handbag, then hooking both her legs around her attackers head, swinging her weight before knocking him down. Then you had got up without an issue, only now you sighed when you realised both your shoes heels were gone. Bucky watched as you waddled off, the man on the floor restless, probably thinking about how he had just lost to a girl. Bucky felt an unburning desire to punch the man silly, but just as quickly as it had come, it was replaced with fear, as he ran back to his sanctuary.

The week went by like a breeze, and soon Saturday came, which was the day you work at the smoothie bar. You prayed for no overtime and extra shifts. By now your car was fixed, but you had opted to walk to work.

The morning air soothed your skin, and you inhaled happily, opening up the shop with glee. You were in the back before you were met with the sound of the doorbell. You peek your head out and notice a tall figure standing by the counter. You walk toward him. “Hello what can I get for you this early mor-,” You falter as the man’s hood falls down, and you were met with the gorgeous face of Bucky, whose cuts were almost a thing of the past. You blink rapidly as you both looked at each other, reluctant to meet each other’s gazes. “Hey Bucky,” You smile, speaking as if your breath had been knocked out of you. Though his appearance was something not appealing, due to the grime and unkept hair and unshaven beard, it was something that had you captured, that was way past his appearance. He had both his hands shoved in his pockets, his mouth beginning to form a sentence. “Have a seat, Buck,” you smiled, gesturing toward the stools by the window. You ran to the kitchen to throw together another house favourite, then brought it to Bucky in a matter of seconds. He hesitantly took it from your hands, eyes staring anywhere but you. “So whats up?” you asked, unsure of how to start a conversation.  
He just stared at his drink, poking at the froth with the straw you were considering not giving to him because he wouldn’t use it. Upon closer inspection, the sullenness of his cheeks was more prominent, as were the bags under his eyes.

“It hurts.” He said plainly, and you could feel your heart being pulled at ruthlessly. A feature of yours was compassion. You looked into his dull eyes, looking for answers, your heart wrenching at the thought of a crying Bucky. What was such a strong exterior held such a broken and delicate interior.

“Bucky, tell me what hurts?” You asked carefully.

“Everything.”

And although you didn’t understand what he meant yet, you got the point. He was hurt, and not just physically, but emotionally.

“Do you have a place to stay?” You were met with the shaking of his head. Surprised with his answer, you began to wonder about how he had managed without a shelter, possibly even without food or water. Without thinking twice about your decision, you locked up the store and led Bucky to your apartment.

“You can call this your home for now. I don’t have any house rules aside from don’t mess up the furniture. I spent a lot of money on that stuff,” you laughed, slotting the key into the door and turning the knob. Bucky looked around your apartment, taking in every detail that seemed to be a fitting puzzle piece in your personality. Bucky’s thoughts were stopped when you ushered him into the bathroom space.

“I figured you’d want to freshen up, so here’s the bathroom, the towel is hanging by the shower and I’ll leave the clothes out for you on the bed,” You said, and you watched as he walked into the bathroom, looking at all the objects that he could see, before you closed the door, humming to yourself a tune you’re sure you heard in a Cadbury ad.  
Busying yourself in the kitchen, taking time only to text your boss and say that an unforeseen event has taken place and requires you to be home, you gleefully skipped around the kitchen, humming the same tune, each time at a different octave. You’re not much of a chef, but you did what you could with the only two packets of instant noodles in your cupboard. Turning the water on before dancing around to grab the bowls, ripping open the two packets, and pouring in the hardened noodles from 30 cm above, to see whether your aim was as impeccable as a basketball player.

Bucky stood at the doorframe of the guest room, gaping in awe at the effortless grace you possessed whilst doing ordinary human functions. He found himself thinking of how she gave his stomach butterflies, even though she doesn’t touch him. Or how she makes him smile, even though she’s not trying to be funny. But as soon as he looked down at himself, he felt embarrassed. Not only were the clothes he was wearing too tight, but his entire metal arm was revealed. He coughed to gain her attention.  
You turned around taken aback by the sight you beheld. Trying and failing to hold back your laughter, you giggled uncontrollably as you looked at the tall muscular mans short track pants and tight t-shirt. You clutched your stomach as you took in his rigid posture and when you read his t-shirt, you began to tear up from laughing. It read ‘Super girl’.  
“And super you are,” You said between laughs. “I’ll go get you some bigger clothes.”


	4. A Star Wars blanket

OF course living by yourself meant that you only had your clothes, and that means only girl clothes. So you scoured through your entire wardrobe to find something large enough to fit him. Finally settling on an oversized pair of Adidas tracksuits, you ran out to give it to him, still with a stoic expression on his face. Had your laughing angered him? Were you making him insecure? You didn’t know the answer to these questions, but promised yourself never to do that again.  
However Bucky was insanely pleased that he had made you laugh. Of course not completely knowingly. And he felt as if peace was finally knocking at his door.

Peace turned out to be you, rapping at his door, asking him if he needed any help, only to be met with silence. With a shrug of your shoulders, you walk back to the kitchen, with a tinge of guilt buried in you. But when Bucky walked into the kitchen in an all black outfit, complete with a tight fitting top, you could do nothing else except mentally pat yourself on the back. You noticed the freshness of his hair, and what was that? Oh the smell of your vanilla shampoo, and orchid scented body wash. The scruff of his beard made his face look unruly, although the imperfect appearance is what was so striking about him. “Those fit nicely” You say pointing to his tracksuit.

“Thanks.”

“So how about we go and trim that beard of yours,” you say, pulling a stool along with you to the bathroom. After much one sided convincing, you got him to sit down on the stool, whilst you prepared your utensils. With a comb and a pair of scissors, you crouch so that your eye was in line with his chin, combing the hair up before clipping it as close to the skin as possible. You furrowed your brow in concentration and you didn’t even noticed that strands of hair began to fall in front of your face until a soft hand pushed them behind your ear. Not moving, your eyes flicked up to meet his gaze, and with a flutter of your heart you mustered out a small thank you, before continuing you ministrations. All the while, feeling the heat rush up to your face. And to cover up the fact that you were embarrassed, you began talking. Or more like babbling.

“So last week, oh my goodness, my boss was being a total pain in the bum, and set me for over time and extra shifts. Its like I’m the only person that works in the damned place. And its not like anyone actually likes-,”

“I like it,” He said, fiddling with the zip on his jacket. You smiled to yourself, continuing to trim around the jawline and cleaning up with a disposable razor.

“Thank you, and you may be the first. But you might be saying that because you feel sorry for me,” you tease playfully, watching his features form what appeared to be fear. “I’m just teasing, thanks by the way,” 

Whilst you cleaned up the sink and his face, you talked to him of the ordinary things you did in your life, that probably wouldn’t have interested anyone else, but this wasn’t anyone else, this was Bucky, and it was the first time someone had talked to him about such trivial things instead of asking about his past.

Perhaps you’d have grown fond of Bucky yourself, as you let him watch tv with you, do the dishes with you, do the washing with you. And it’s been over a week with you nursing his slowly back to full health, before you can actually ask the questions that have been bugging you for a while. So as you sat with your bowl of popcorn, and him with his, each wrapped around a different blanket. Yours being winnie the pooh, and his being a star wars blanket. You comfortably snuggled against the arm of the couch, before taking a breath to begin.

“Buck,”

“Hmm,” he replied. Even with the weeks of you talking, he would only reply with disgruntled sounds, a smile – which was rare – or single word sentences.

“what happened to you before you came to me?” You asked hesitantly, feeling the shift in the couch, as a slight awkwardness clouded the air.

“I only remember pain.” 

“You were hurt?”

“Yes.” 

You thought for a moment, sitting up to think better. Your brain trying to decide on whether it would be a good idea to try and get his memories back, or if it’ll be a bad idea. Looking over your shoulder, you find him staring at you, as he does, with those blue eyes, an arm behind his neck for support, and you have never seen him look so healthy. But if what he remembered was only pain, that could jeopardise all the change that has happened. You stared at the black tv screen for what seemed like seconds, but the soft snoring emitting from Bucky's mouth told you otherwise. You hop off the couch, pulling the blankets further up passed his shoulders, and disappeared to the comfort of your room.  
Just as the warm arms of sleep began to caress your senses, a scream was heard from the living room. Only thinking of the worst possible situation as you jumped out of bed, and saw Bucky throwing his head from side to side.

“(Y/N)! GET AWAY FROM ME!” He yelled. He wasn’t awake, but in your daze, you thought he was talking to you. Still, you moved forward, grabbing his soft right hand in yours whilst rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. Stroking his hair with your free hand, you lulled him to sleep with a lullaby your mum used to sing for you. Soon the thrashing had stopped, and you’d have meant to go away, if it weren’t for the grip on your hand, pulling you down next to him. And instead of fighting against it, you nestled against the warmth he provided, pulling the star wars blanket over the both of you, before drifting off into a well-deserved sleep.


	5. The heart of an Angel, the hand of the Devil

When you awoke the next morning, with a cool arm at your neck, and a warm arm wrapped around your body, your first instinct was to succumb to the warmth. And so you did. Still in a disoriented state, you fell asleep again with your lips ever so softly grazing the skin of the man.

By this time Bucky was awake, the feel of your lips against his neck was something heavenly. The way your hair smelled was something out of the ordinary. The way his arms enveloped you, sharing your warmth with him only made him feel dizzy with content. These feelings were new to him, and he didn’t know what he should do. With his hand, he feathered his touch over her brow, committing every detail of her to memory. His parted lips blew hot air against her face, and he caught himself smiling at her scrunched expression. Afraid he’d awaken you, he lay unmoving, hoping you’d get a better sleep than he ever would. At one point he didn’t dare to breathe as you had repositioned yourself against his metal arm. And then he looked at his metal arm. Something so dangerous was supporting something so innocent. The arm was the reason for a lot of deaths, whereas the girl was the reason for a lot of lives being lived to the fullest. She was an angel, and Bucky knew that clearly. She didn’t deserve such a dirty form of support. And without warning, bucky snatched his arm away, waking you up in the process. You stared wide-eyed at Bucky, and your positioning before falling off the couch with a thud. Bucky would care, but he reckoned that you picking yourself up is better that him – a monster – helping such a pure being.

Overcoming your embarrassment, you noticed Bucky’s unusual glare at his metal arm. You have never acknowledged his metal arm, because you saw it as a soft spot for him.   
“Buck, what happened, why are you looking like that?”

“I hate this arm, I HATE THIS ARM!” He yelled, tears pooling at the rim of his eyes. “I am a monster, you shouldn’t take care of me like this!” He hit his metal arm against his thigh, “YOU SHOULDN’T PUT YOURSELF IN DANGER LIKE THIS!”

His frantic and angered appearance made you shed a tear. “Bucky, you won’t hurt me.” You say calmly, holding onto his flesh and metal hand. “And your hand is beautiful, and I love it,” you say.

Bucky looks down in shame, wondering what on earth he’s done to deserve such an angel. You bend your head down and your lips come into contact with the metal arm. Bucky pulls his hand from you, unable to bear watching as an angel kissed his hand made by the devil.

You stare into his eyes, left holding only his flesh hand within your own grasp, watching as a seemingly strong man, crumbled to nothing right in front of you. Heart thumping furiously in your chest, you suddenly wrapped your arms around his neck before even realising what you were doing. Burying your face into the crook of his neck, being welcomed by his sweet scent, your mind was going crazy. Never had you been so upset with the thought of someone thinking that they aren’t worth it. Having Bucky break down in front of you struck a nerve. And you knew that you were going to be there for him. Comfort him. 

Bucky’s eyes widened as you made contact with him. Your hot breath against his neck calmed him down significantly, and he found himself leaning in to her touch. Your body between his legs, pressed flushed against his chest, though you couldn’t care less. Holding him tighter, you began feeling the prickle of his stubble against his forehead.

“I’m not scared of you, and you shouldn’t be scared of yourself. If I had thought you were a monster, I wouldn’t have let you into my home,” you whispered ever so lightly, feeling Bucky shiver beneath you.

“You don’t even know anything about me,” He rasped out, between soft sobs. Which was true, but you knew what you had to. A super soldier, put through torture, showing signs of ptsd. Trained in the medical profession, the oath you had taken as a doctor, coincided clearly with the situation at hand. As you remember your own failures, you only began to feel more inclined to help Bucky. And when his arms wrapped around your waist, hauling you up onto his lap, nothing else mattered. Bucky gripped your waist, nuzzling his nose against your hair. He knew what he was doing was wrong. He knew that, but still, the unwavering ounce of protection and affection she gave him was like a drug, and he couldn’t get enough.

You stayed like that for a couple of minutes, possibly close to an hour, until Bucky realised that you had fallen asleep, yet again, in his arms. With a soft smile, he cradled her, then lay her down against the softness of the couch, watching as you sunk into the pillowy goodness.

“Printsessa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, why so short?


	6. Too Soon

When you woke up, feeling a lack of warmth, you felt odd. Surprisingly this was the first time you had really felt cold in a while. Opening your eyes to the strong rays of afternoon sun, you took it against you to look around for Bucky. When you realised he wasn’t in your apartment, you shot up, rubbing your eyes hastily. Not having him around made you feel vulnerable, and you started to panic.

“Buck?!” You called whilst running through the house, hoping to find a trace of his existence. But to no avail. You made yourself a cup of coffee, convincing yourself that he just went for a run, or just some fresh air. Nodding, you started to busy yourself with cleaning and Sudoku puzzles. An unlikely pair, but it was something else your mind would be able to do on this gloomy looking Sunday.

Nearing noon, you started to pace around the living room, in nothing but an oversized t-shirt. Coming out of the shower, your delusional state pulled pants legs onto your arms, and when things didn’t work out too well, you threw it over your head, forgetting to pick it up to wear again. 

1pm came, and you stopped worrying, and started filing papers.

2pm came, and you were cleaning your apartment.

3pm came, and you decided to shake off this bad feeling you had.

A little over 4pm you gleefully got up at the sound of the doorbell. Though this time for a completely different reason. As you opened the door, the smell of pizza wafted through your apartment as you gladly gave the boy your money, swiftly taking the pizza from him. Humming to yourself you switch the tv on, hoping to find some sort of medical tv show, that you were obsessed with. Settling yourself into the couch, you lazily threw a piece of glorious cheese into your mouth. Only for it to fall out rather unattractively when the ads started rolling in.

The live symbol was displayed along the top of the screen, with two figures fighting amidst a fog of dust. But that arm could not be missed, and, well, the other guys uniform wasn’t something nobody knew of. It was Bucky, with eyes full of rage, throwing punches into the beautiful face of captain America.

Oh no.

This couldn’t be happening.

The guy you’ve been keeping in your apartment is against the guy that stands for your country.

Good lord, you’ve been housing a criminal.

A criminal with soft eyes, and a lop-sided smile.

A monster – 

“NO!” You screamed loudly, slamming your palms against the sides of your head. The thought came into your head without warning, and before you knew it, you were out the door, lazily throwing a pair of your favourite Adidas on. 

Running out passed your work place, down to the heart of the city, overthrown cars and buildings billowing smoke instantly met your vision. And out behind another car turned on its side stood the man you kept so close to you for weeks. You let out an audible gasp when a car full of passengers was swung in your direction by Bucky. With blurred vision, you ran out of the way, only hoping to save the lives of the children inside that car. With tears streaming down your face, you opened their door and ran with them out of sight before the car exploded.

Turning around, you saw him, ripping through cars heading in your direction, but in his crazed state, didn’t see you. And by then you dried your tears on the shoulder of your t-shirt staring at him whilst he stared back at you. And with hesitant steps at first, you walked toward him, then entered a jog, and soon enough, you swung a fist straight into his cheek.

“Wake up Bucky,” You breathed out, swerving against a metal arm and jabbing toward his jaw. None of your punches seemed to faze him, until he successfully punched you in the stomach. Groaning as you hit the floor, you looked up at him and he stared down at you mercilessly, with a metal arm poised above his head. In one quick motion, you pivoted around one foot, hooking your calf behind his ankles before yelling out and pulling him to the ground. He was dazed only for a millisecond, but that was all you needed. You slid over to his body, grazing your knees along the tar and shrapnel, twisting so that you landed against his chest. You bit your lip as you went in for the punch to the cheek. “Bucky, stop fighting,” he was out of breath and had a cold stare but still resisted against your grip. You punched again, “BUCKY.” You yelled, hoping punches would knock some sense into him.

“I DON’T KNOW WHO BUCKY IS!”

And with that he twisted his metal arm, throwing it at you, unfortunately for him, you blocked with your forearm, and unfortunately for you, something in your arm must have been broken. With a quiet “Ow” you jabbed at his throat, hoping to knock the wind out of him, only to be thrown to the side as he broke free from your grasp, albeit a little bit worn out. 

After managing to get up, you run behind him, grabbing his shoulder with the throbbing pain of your left arm, and he turned around mid-manoeuvre, you start to jab at his stomach, each time being met with a disgruntled sound of pain, but what seemed to be more sore was your hand. What were you punching, abs of steel (or emotional instability)?

You weren’t doing well emotionally, but you knew you had to shut this man down before he hurts anybody else, but you weren’t someone who could do that, well at least, not anymore.  
After blocking some of his punches, you swung around into a swift turning kick, straight to his head, and he fell to the floor, moving, but otherwise incapable.

You were breathing hard, and had your arms on your knees when you were met when the valiant wings of falcon himself. “Dang,” he said looking at your state up and down, “I am seeing way too much right now.” At that moment you looked down, only to realise you have come outside wearing nothing but a t-shirt that barely covered your ass, and with an uncomfortable gesture you crossed your arms over your body. After all, you were seeing an avenger with your own eyes, but he was seeing you as a skimpy ninja-like girl.

Falcon laughed, “you have got to be the first person who has taken down steely over here. Wait till we bring you in to the guys.”

“The guys?” You questioned quizzically.


	7. Weakness

Bucky woke up with a jolt, rising off the soft surface with a heave of his breath. He was disoriented, so he closed his eyes, only to be met with the dizzying colour of grey and white. He tugged at his arm to rub at his eyes, but couldn’t as both his arms were in some form of tech handcuffs. Bucky knew this wasn’t Hydra. The chair wasn’t as soft as comfortable as this one. The lighting was brighter, yet even with this amount of light, Bucky could not see a thing. Maybe because he was so disoriented. Along with everything else was the soft electronic beeping continuously occurring beside his head. Looking over to see the source of the sound, but started to get scared. The more he looked at the equipment, the more familiar the sounds and devices became, and the more he remembered his time being locked up with Hydra. And that thought scared him, because the only other name he had stuck in his mind was,

(y/n).

The fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about how his actions could’ve gotten you killed. It was a complete myth when people said that Bucky couldn’t remember who he’s killed and hurt, when in fact, the soldier inside him share’s the same memories, and all Bucky is left with is the visions of everyone the winter soldier has killed. More specifically, the one that’s hurting him the most right now was the fact that he had hurt you. And he knows this as he plays back the scene where you slid across the ground, your bare knees scrapping against the asphalt and debris, facial features everything but pain. He closes his eyes to the anger he felt at himself at the moment, and not the least bit thankful for the restraints as he tried brutally to punch himself.

Noticing the flicker of movement inside the hospital room, a passing Captain America ran in without warning, bursting through the doors, only to see a heaving Bucky, pulling against his restraints. Cap let an audible sigh of relief, which was seemingly unfitting in Bucky’s near psychotic antics. “Heya Buck,” he said rather softly. Bucky’s ears perked up amidst hearing the familiar nickname. With strong eyes, he glared at Cap.

“How do you know what she calls me?” he spat, watching as Steve’s face fell from relief to visibly upset.

“I… well…um…” Steve had tried to start, although it was hard when his friend couldn’t recall anything of him.

“What did you do with her?” He growled, teeth clenched together as he stared down the equally as powerful man, even though he was restrained to his bed.

“We…didn’t do anything with her Buck-,”

“DON’T CALL ME THAT!” he yelled, shaking as he heaved a big breath, shutting his eyes to the blinding light and almost visible anger steaming from himself. Steve, who stood mid-sentence at the doorway, backed out of the room, with a solemn look on his face. But he knew he had to get her, it was the only way to calm him down.

 

You were sitting against the edge of a plain bed, on the edge of a plain room, and stared at your bandaged knee and knuckles, not to mention the large cast covering the majority of your forearm, and also a large purple bruise over your stomach where you had been punched.

OK so what Bucky punched you, you knew it wasn’t him. In fact, after a long conversation with steve Rogers, you found out his dark past, and the gaping holes it left in his sanity. He also explained to you that he was free from hydra, but was on the run, probably because he wasn’t ready to accept who he is.

Sitting glumly, you stared up at the ceiling, wondering how on earth your life had come to this. Not only was it eerily dramatic, but your wardrobe malfunctions just make your life 10x less bearable than it should be. With your oversized shirt and the gashes along it, you knew you looked completely like a hobo who had just gotten into a streetfight. Which is not exactly the situation you were in at this moment.

The door creaked open slowly, and you were well aware of the second presence entering your room. Steve cleared his throat before looking you in the eyes. “He’s awake, and he wants to see you,” he said, with an unreadable expression. You had come to know Captain Steve Rogers as a man stuck in the 40’s with hideous old school humour, but a character full of timeless qualities. The man that stood before you was none of the aforementioned characteristics, but a much quieter and reserved man. You hesitantly stood up not knowing whether the situation was so grim it had caused him pain, or whether Bucky had thrown another tantrum and hurt his feelings. Either way, you followed quietly behind Steve, not daring to speak for fear of disrupting his mood further. Watching your feet, you noticed that the white tiles had become a flat concrete surface, and as you neared a door, you noticed the heavy bolt and its steel framing. Steve opened the large door, gesturing for you to go inside with no intention of following you. You had a confused expression on your face as you raised an eyebrow at Steve, who merely shrugged and nudged you inside. Your eyes followed the length of the room, before landing your gaze on the broken man who sat with slumped shoulders, staring down at his shackled wrists. Instinct took over, and you found yourself running towards him, with outstretched arms, engulfing him into the biggest hug you could possibly give someone who had been tied down to their bed. Bucky nuzzled against you, not knowing why the mere scent of you could instantly calm him down. You held him against your chest, not caring about the bandages and bruises, for the emotional scars this man has must be far worse.

“You’re ok now,” you whisper to him. Bucky had felt the immerse urge of tears prickle his eyes, but fought against it when he heard your soft sobbing. You crying only hurt him more, because he knew, you must’ve been crying because of him, and he wasn’t entirely happy about that fact. He also knew that at least one of you needed to be strong at this moment, and he chose to be your crying shoulder.

“I don’t care about me, how are you?” Bucky asked, nudging your head up with his shoulder. You got up, wiping your face with trembling fingers. With a soft smile on your face you nodded to him. Bucky watched you smile at him, but he didn’t once believe it, because the bandages and scrapes said otherwise. “But you’re hurt,” he said.

“Not as much as you,” you replied, still with a soft smile on your face. You put a hand against his hair, running your fingers through the length of it, and it seemed to make him relax. “Buck, I’m going to go call Steve back here. You need him more than me,” you say, knowing that there wasn’t much you could do for him.

Bucky’s face turned to a scowl, “No I don’t, I need you,” he mustered out through grit teeth. You looked at him blankly, because you also knew that his current self was rejecting his past memories. The Memories that make Bucky, Bucky.

“Buck, listen to me, Steve was your friend, is your friend. Please just talk to him, and let him help you,”

Bucky looked up to meet your beautiful pleading eyes, only to succumb to your commands. And at this moment, the Winter Soldier had found his weakness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hows it going so far? Cliche? I'm a sucker for cliches, oops. Please comment if you have any complaints, of course I also really enjoy reading compliments as well :P But constructive criticism is key. I try to upload 2 times a week, so you can stick around, and enjoy the rapid chapter updating.


	8. Stark Tower

Steve Rogers had a silhouette similar to a body builder, a demeanour similar to a brooding historian, but for the people that saw past these first layers of defence, saw the true caring side of Captain Rogers. And he was thankful for these people. Namely James Buchanan Barnes, who unfortunately at the moment did not even recognise, or stop to question the familiarity of his presence. As Rogers watched (y/n) leave the door, nodding toward him, instead of rushing towards Bucky, he ran after you.

You swung around when you felt a hand on your shoulder, a calloused hand against your smooth skin, and with a questioning expression, you stared at Steve.

“How’d it go?” He asks, dismally. 

“He seems fine with me, but I don’t think that enough,” you say rather unhappily. You watched as Steve exchanged looks, and raised an eyebrow. “I told him he needs to talk to you.”

“And?” he probed.

“And, well, it looks like he’s rejecting you…because of me,” you say glumly, with slumped shoulders. You weren’t sure how Steve was going to take this, but you assumed not well, since one of his earliest friends was back in his life, except appeared to be reborn as a completely different person. Steve looked at you, pondering over the said causes. You tried to decipher the Captains reticent state, and decided that he was probably just wondering how he could approach Bucky.

And as if nothing had happened, Steve cracked a smile, “Enough about this, let’s go meet everyone else.” And you couldn’t help but smile back as well.

Steve led you through the clinical corridors of the Stark Tower, in its minimal and reserved state, only altered when the bounding presence of Natasha Romanov broke into your view.

“Natasha, you’re excited to see our guest,” Steve comments, smirking with amusement. Though Natasha shot him a look that undoubtedly screamed – shut up. With a long tantalising stare, she looked at you, whilst you oddly did the same. Although the exchange may be awkward to a spectator, between the two of you was something unspokenly troublesome. You looked at her in her entirety – Black pants, black shirt, perfectly contrasting her red hair, there was familiarity in the way she poised herself, it was as if you were looking in the mirror.

“Oh Rogers, you never change,” she says still looking at you. “Picking up cast-aways must be your speciality,” she says as she turns on her heel, and struts down the hall. You looked at her, not knowing why the familiarity of her was so striking to you, but also how you had instantly known her name, whilst not even knowing who she is. You look up to steve with a questioning stare, only to be met with the same, but was soon replace with a smile. 

“She’s always like that,” Steve laughs, but you could see past his façade, and you knew he was trying to figure out Natasha’s indifference to your unexpected presence. 

You and Steve walk out into a living room – like space, with modern furnishings and wide panelled windows, exposing the city-scape. You gaped in awe as the other people in the room began to notice a new being in their midst. Hawkeye, Vision, Scarlett Witch … The Avengers. Obviously you were going to encounter them sooner or later, but you had, of course, not expected it all to be at once. As they stared at you, you felt like a little girl presenting a speech in front of a class, and all the words that made it out of your mouth was, “Whoa.” Hawkeye chuckles from the far back of the room.

“I should be saying that,” He said. You blushed upon hearing the compliment, unsure if he was talking about your appearance, which in fact was still as same as the tragedy you beat up poor Bucky in. It was the first time someone had been so outward in their liking to you. With an ‘oomf’ you look up to see Wanda nudge Clint in the chest. “You must be a good fighter if you took down the Winter Soldier.” And with an embarrassed mental slap, you turned 3 shades pinker, wondering how on earth you embarrassed yourself in the first 30 seconds of meeting the Worlds idols.

“I mean it was hard, he’s got a good arm,” you say carelessly, only picking up on your unintended pun when Clint, Tony, Wanda and Steve let out a unanimous unattractive snort of laughter, with the addition of Visions low chuckle.

“You could say he metal the fighting requirements,” Vision chuckled through a breathy gasp of air. And the room was silent, only for the failed repressed snicker that came from your lips. You were a sucker for bad puns.

“That was terrible, Vision. You got to stop being so blind, and open your eyes to the wider world of sarcasm.” Said Tony Stark, as he gracefully entered the room, with some sort of tech device in his hand. "I would introduce myself, but I guess you already know who I am," to which you nod your head furiously. "I also know who you are, but our friend Vision here, cant see that."

"Enough with the vision jokes!" Falcon interjected, wheezing from above the staircase. Everybody looked up at him. "This lady over here has got some moves," he says pointing toward you, “Lets focus on one thing at a time.” You shied away from the attention, although you weren’t usually like this.  
“Yeah, to think that Cap couldn’t even keep him down,” Clint says.

“I was preoccu-,” Steve was cut off with the sound of beeps and the flashing of a small LED light. Tony held up the device to his face, showing a sign of tiredness.

“Steve, your friend has gotten out,” He says exasperatedly. As soon as it was said, Steve ran back to the room, and all the other Avengers split up, each running down different corridors, leaving you by yourself in the middle of a rather terrifyingly large room, with blaring red lights. You decide to follow Steve, and break into a jog to catch up. When you arrive in front of the room, neither Steve or Bucky are in sight, and you begin to panic a little, mulling over the possible locations for their disappearance.

You swung around quickly, with the sound of heavy feet against the concrete floor filled your ears. Steve looks at you frantically. “Did you see him?” You respond with the shaking of your head, equally as scared. Bucky wasn’t in the right mind, he only remembered you. At that’s when you had a look of understanding on your face. “What?” Steve questions.

“The room,” You say, breaking out into a sprint toward the room they had kept you in. Although every part of your body ached, and your knees felt like they were on fire, you kept going. When finally you had reached an open door, with a frantic Bucky in the middle of the room, you sighed in relief. Breathless, you walked toward the door, making yourself visible to him. His crazed eyes dawned on you, and he ran to you for a bone crushing hug. You gasped with pain as your arm was sandwiched between his hard chest, and he let go immediately.

“(y/n) I’m so sorry,” he says apologetically, putting his hand on your cast as he kept one hand against your hair. You could feel hot air against your head, moving in time with his chest. And you sunk into his hug. 

“Buck, why are you running?” 

“I thought they would do something to you.”

You almost laugh at his naivety. “Buck, listen to me, I told you, these aren’t bad people, they won’t hurt you or me,”

“That’s not what I meant,” He says. Bucky had been laying down in that bed for what seemed like hours, but all he could think of were your eyes, and your lips, and your kindness, and it was something he wasn’t willing to give away so easily. He was feeling things with the upmost sincerity, and he didn’t know how he could show it to you. So when you threw an arm over his shoulder, lighting up a flame in the pit of his stomach, he instantly reacted by snaking his arms around your thin waist, feeling the flesh of your lower back against his skin. When Captain America appeared by the doorway staring at your exposed legs, Bucky instantly blocked your form from view, essentially covering up what was ‘his’. You gave him a questioning look, to which he leaned down in level to your ear and whispered, “Wear some pants next time, _Printsessa_ , it’s hard to stay in control.”

And you wondered how on earth a trained assassin, stuck in a state of confusion, had a mouth as sinful as his.


	9. Repressed Memories

Steve averted his gaze as quickly as he could, he blushed at being caught mid-action, equally red as you were from being subject to Bucky’s sinful one liner. You gulped nervously, tugging with a shaky hand at the hem of your shirt, because the tone Bucky was using with you was authoritative, not the usual confused tone. You clear your throat, peeking out from the side of his large profile, in a futile attempt to direct your attention elsewhere. But Bucky noticed your unease, and continued to tease you further by feathering his touch against your arm. With a startled yelp, you took off running, or possibly confused hopping, out the door only to be quietly followed by a chuckling Bucky.

You recalled seeing a stunned Steve Rogers, though only for a fleeting moment, and you found yourself wondering where on earth the boy could possibly have gone within the minutes span of events. Since everyone must’ve been thinking their less than friendly guest turned Winter Soldier, you decide to bring it upon yourself to notify everyone. And as you enter the room full of Avengers looking far less than happy, you knew they had been told the news already. You scanned the area for Steve, only to find him not being able to meet your gaze, and a smirking Clint beside him.

“We’ve decided not to lock him up,” Tony says tiredly. You didn’t have to look at him to know he didn’t like this decision. “I don’t like the unknown, but I guess we all have to stay on our toes now. We don’t know when he could turn Winter Soldier.” You hear a low primal growl from directly behind you, followed by the low words of I don’t like him. Your lips form a slight smile at the childish phrase delivered so viciously. The sweet juxtaposition only made you want to laugh loudly.

“And we’ve also decided to have you, (y/n), stay here as well,” Falcon states. With a shocked expression, you look around the room, trying to find a hint of sarcasm or humour written on at least one of their faces, to no avail.

“What?” you ask. That was when your arm was tugged to the side, and you found yourself following the Black Widow to a small room to he side.

“Look, you’re staying here to help with Bucky.”

“How would I help him?” you ask.

“I think you know very well how you’ll help him.”

You stare at her in the eye. The way she spoke to you was fast and concise. Much like the way a person would to the person they despise.

“And we have to figure out who you are.” She says.

“And you haven’t figured out who I am?” you question, unsure where the confidence was coming from. She stiffens upon hearing your words, pressing her lips into a line. The look in her eyes told you nothing.

“Lets just get back to the others.”

And after chatting with the rest of the avengers about the arrangements, you were shown to your respective room, along with Bucky, whose room was on an entirely different corridor to yours. Bucky huffed in response after dropping you off to your room before being shown to his room by Steve.

You paced around your room, thinking about the jobs you had. One, your weekend job, otherwise known as the job that gets you into the most trouble, aka the one you were in right now. Two, your weekday job, a doctor. Working two jobs was not something that you had to do, you were making enough money as it was, but you tried to keep yourself as preoccupied as possible. Everything was so hard before you learned to take care of yourself, perhaps this was the reason Bucky appealed to you. No parents, a confused past, no place to call home. You distinctly remember running, and then your memory fails you. Perhaps staying with the Avengers would do some good to your development.

Weeks went by of nothing really interesting. You started going back to work once your cast was off, which was oddly fast, as commented by Steve. You always knew you healed fast, but it wasn’t something science helped you with understanding. Immersing yourself in the environment of work yet again, you found salvation, or temporary salvation. You had successfully avoided Bucky by making work related excuses each time you met him. You had also managed to avoid Natasha, who seemingly always appeared in front of you when you were tired, and ready to say anything to get rid of the person talking to you. Luckily your memory isn’t as great as Natasha presumed, but you still lay in bed till 3 in the morning wondering why her interest in you was resurfacing emotions of familiarity.

“(y/n).” a stern voice called. You jumped from the seat, thanking the heavens that your mug was empty. Looking up at Tony, you felt inferior, because you knew the tone was completely different to his usual sarcastic quips. 

“Yes Tony,” you say sweetly, trying to lessen his incoming blow. He snorted loudly, making you smile more.

“Let me show you something.”

He pulls out a folder from under his arm, which was titled in red ink, but incomprehensible to your eyes. He carelessly opens the first page as he takes his seat next to you. Curious you peer over his arm to read the title. He tuts in annoyance. “Patience.” You let out a puff of air, crossing your arms like an upset child, only to earn a chuckle from Tony. “OK now you can look, actually you could have looked before, I’m just playing with you.”

He shows you the folder titled _‘The Red Room’_. Confusion graces your features because the name sounds like either a regal castle like structure, or the product of a twisted murder’s architectural fantasies. Tony flips the page, showing you a list of names, the first of which is highlighted, and read ‘Natasha Romanov’.

“Yeah Natasha was there,” and you could barely hear him when the third name on the list was yours. _(f/n)(l/n)_ , which was also highlighted. “And so were you.”

Your mind was buzzing, because you tried your hardest to remember what the red room was, since it so happens that you were part of it.

“And where is there?” you ask timidly. Hesitantly reaching out for the papers, but Tony shut the folder.

“Somewhere you should remember on your own terms.”

"Stark, you tell me why my name is on that list"

"Well, (y/n), I guess you have some homework to do,"

Angry with being told a crucial piece of information on your past, and yet only to be told that it was merely a trigger for you to gain the memories by yourself, made you get up from your seat, looking down at Tony.

“There’s nothing but a list in this folder.” He says calmly, waving the sheet in front of your face, also dangling an empty folder from the other hand. “But this is top secret stuff, I gotta put it back.” He says. With a less angry nod of the head, you head off down the corridor to your room.

And as Tony Stark filed the thin sheet of paper back into the folder, he stared at the last name on the list written in italics : _James Buchanan Barnes_.


	10. Chapter 10

You were calmer by the time you realised you hadn’t exactly been walking down the correct pathway to your room, instead found yourself in front of a very unfamiliar pathway, leading toward more rooms. But of course you had to bump into him. Hair dishevelled and face covered in a thin sheen, he looked gorgeous, despite his current state. You scrunched up your eyes, mentally slapping yourself over and over as you stopped dead in your tracks. When you opened your eyes, Bucky stood before you, in his loose sweats and infamous confused expression upon meeting your gaze. His mouth hung open as he looked at you, seeming like he wanted to say something, but nothing was coming out. So you decided to help the situation.

“You look lovely--,” you pause to mentally smack yourself, “Yummy--,” smacks self violently, “UGLY!” with a great big internal war, you somehow manage to keep what you thought was a straight face, but to Bucky, he saw a seriously pained expression, and he cracked a smile. 

“What did you say? I look lov--,”

“FUNNY!” You shriek, scurrying past him as he tried to stifle his laughter. You had no idea where you were running, but the last thing you wanted to do was to show Bucky your beet red face. But Bucky followed you closely behind with quiet steps, wondering where you were going. He couldn’t stop smiling at you as you sped through the corridors, flicking your hair over your shoulder as you did so. 

“Where do you intend on going, ma’am.” Bucky questions, after having followed you around the same block of rooms for the third time. You shriek loudly, jumping as you turned to meet his amused expression. He stood ever so coolly against the wall, with his arms folded across his chest.

“How long have you been following me?” you asked.

“Long enough to see you fix your … shirt,” he smirks. Your eyes widen as you vaguely remember readjusting your bra from under your shirt, before groping the two to decide their stability.

“Pervert.” You mumbled, to be answered with the sound of his timid laugh filling your ears. You were astounded at how fast he was opening up to you, and possibly even the other avengers. Not that you were complaining.

“So… you want to tell me why you’ve been avoiding me?” he asks, walking closer to you. You swallow nervously, suddenly feeling like a deer caught in the headlights.

“I-I-I haven’t i-i-ignored you.”

“Is it because of what I said?”

_Wear some pants next time, Printsessa, its hard to stay in control._

“NO! Uh, no because I don’t remember.” You say, not meeting his eyes.

“Oh, I said, ‘wear some pa--,” 

“Is that the time?! Goodness, I’ve got to get to work!” you exclaim, eager to escape Bucky’s interrogation. You realise that you had literally just looked at an empty wrist and exclaimed the time. Oh how you hated your non-observant state. 

_“Милая моя”_ he whines, gripping your arm before you could leave. Your insides churn with whatever he said to you in Russian. _“Любовь моя, приди ко мне”_ he says endearingly, pulling your arm closer to him. You notice the softness of his tone, and the breathiness he delivered it in, yet could not piece together what he said to you. Although, you couldn’t deny that there was something undeniably irresistible about him when he spoke to you in his mother tongue. You look up to meet his gaze as he smiles at your expression. _“Ты чудесная.”_

“Buck…”

“Yes, _Милая моя.”_

“What does that even mean?”

“do you need to know?” 

You laughed incredulously, what was with people and their resistance to hand you information.

“You could be dissing me right now. You are totally dissing me right now. What are you calling me? Loser? Witch? Dumbass? Bitch? Ass--,”

Bucky laughed at your strained expressions, and simply stared at you with a small smile on his face. The small smile held a sense of victory. Because every time he saw you the only words that came to his mind were: _Милая моя and Любовь моя, приди ко мне_  
My Darling.  
Come to me, my love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> excuse my Russian, and excuse the short chapter. I'm supposed to be writing this 3000 word paper, but I end up doing this instead :'(


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao so I'm half Russian but my Russian straight up sucks, and I can't ask my dad how to say "my love" :'D I'll get through this without google translate somehow. Enjoy these chapters where I'm seriously trying to establish their relationship. Also pls comment the good, the bad and the ugly, I like to fix things so they create fluidity for you guys :D xoxo

Bucky stared at you through the sweaty wisps of hair which covered his face, his hand still gripping yours as you continued to mumble possible insults that he could have been saying. 

“Weren’t you going to your room?” Bucky interjects, releasing his grip on your arm. You hadn’t noticed it was there till it was gone. 

“Well, yes,”

“Then why are you standing outside my room?”

You take a look around at the unfamiliar surroundings, looking at each door, and observing the one you stood right in front of. You had no idea where Bucky’s room was, heck, you had no idea where yours was right now.

“Uh…” you say in a disoriented state. “Is this your room?” You ask absentmindedly. Bucky takes a moment to look at his surroundings before turning to you and nodding his head with a smug expression on his face.

“I thought you knew where you were going.” He says with a smirk. You take it upon yourself to smack him across the arm hearing a faint, ow, as your response.  
“You knew I was lying, stop playing with me,” you admit, meeting his gaze with fierce sincerity. He feigned confusion, you were starting to think he does this all the time to make you feel sorry for him.

“What? You were lying?!” 

“You’re impossible.” 

Bucky grins as he moves to open the door to his room, gesturing for you to follow him inside. You take a minute to observe his room in all its simplicity. Just a bed, a bedside table, a lamp and an incredibly messy desk, which seemed to only be used to store piles of clothes. The light in his room was warm, and comforting, produced by those soft rays of sunlight pouring in through the blinds. You walk with soft steps into his room, passing him as you did so.

“Sit,” he says, gesturing to the bed. He went to grab things off his desk before picking up his towel. “And when I come back, I expect to hear all about what made you so mad that you lost your bearings.” he says as he walks out the door, closing it softly as he went.

You lay down on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His whole room smelled like him, and it was ensnaring your senses. Bucky’s scent was something that calmed you down, and you had no idea why. You loved lighting midnight orchid scented candles to calm you down, you loved strong scents. But Bucky’s scent was light, it was like soap, leather and a hint of grass. It was a manly scent, though you like very girly soaps and candles. You roll over onto your side, snuggling against his pillow, and propping your hand beneath it, inhaling deeply, you felt sleepy, your eyes fluttering to a close, forgetting about everything. The Red Room, Natasha Romanov…

Bucky pushed open the door, expecting to find you sleeping, and how right he was. He ruffled his hair with his towel, drying it in a rushed manner. His eyes crinkled at the sides as a smile overtook his features. You were sprawled against his bed, legs reaching from one side to the other, the arms cradling yourself. You snored softly, barely noticeable, but with the dead silence of the room, Bucky heard this and chuckled to himself. He was going absolutely crazy, without himself fully realising the reality of his situation. 

With one abnormally loud snore, you woke up, looking up to find Bucky half-way out the door. He noticed you had woken up and walked back inside. As if you couldn’t embarrass yourself anymore, he has also seen you drool and snore simultaneously. Rubbing your eyes with your hands, your squint your eyes to get a better look at him.

“Morning,” he says. You groan in response, propping yourself up on your elbows. “its good you got up now.”

You squint even more in your daze, “Why?”

He holds up his razor, “I was just going to go shave,”

If it were any more possible, you might’ve squinted even more.

He twirled the razor between his fingers, “help me?” he asked with a pleading expression on his face.

You snorted, moving to sit upright. “Ok, terminator, you have hands, do it yourself.”

“But you do it better!” he exclaims. You could get used to this cute, pleading side of this super soldier. His deep voice did not suit being cute at all, but at least it was an effort.  
“fine,” you try to say as begrudgingly as possible, but you knew, secretly that you also wanted to do this again. 

You two walk to the bathroom, where he sits against the bathtub awaiting your next motion. You wash your hands in silence, picking up the razor, before making your way toward Bucky. Although he sat against the bathtub, his height wasn’t drastically short for you to bring in a second chair, you could simply bend down a little to be in line with his chin. So that you did, starting from the right side of his face, using the beard trimmer instead of the razor. You steadied the side of his face with your left hand, ignoring his eyes on you.

“So what made you so mad?” he asks.

Your concentrated face turned into that of sadness, and Bucky felt as if he had asked the most absurd question. “Tony has information about my past.” You say quickly, your voice being drowned by the electrical whirring of the trimmer. Bucky fidgeted with his hands upon hearing your exasperated voice. He knew you were sick of trying to figure out your past, as was he.

“What’d he tell you?” Bucky inquires, genuinely interested.

“That my past meant that I knew Natasha Romanov, but have no recollection of her. There is this grey area in my mind, and I feel like that’s the biggest part of my life, gone. Not to mention Natasha hates me, so it must mean I was some sort of bitch to her.” You ramble. That’s probably your fatal flaw, rambling about nothing. Or maybe it’s a talent.  
You were nearing his chin when he started to speak, “I feel the same, Милая моя.”

And you knew he was in a similar situation to you. Except yours didn’t appear to be as traumatic. At least you weren’t taken in by HYDRA.

“What’s with this MIlaya Moyna thing you keep saying? It doesn’t matter I kind of like it,” You admit. Bucky smiles at your compliance, making you look him in the eyes, “What is it?” you question, sceptical of his words.

“Nothing.”

“You sir, are a grade A ass,”

You continue to trim his beard, cropping it close to the skin. To be honest, you liked his stubble, which was probably why you opted for the trimmer and not the razor. As you clean up around his neck, your fingers graze against his lips, in a dire attempt to lift his chin up. You try to act cool about it by playing it cool, but the soft and suppleness of his lips left a tingling sensation on the tips of your fingers. To play it cool, you acted as if it were all part of your plan, but really, you were freaking out internally.  
“Thanks,” he mumbles once you dusted his neck.

“Don’t mention it,” you say rather too quickly. As you put the trimmer down on the sink, you expected to meet a ‘ready to leave bucky’ instead, when you had turned around to meet his arms, pulling at your waist toward him. You landed gracefully onto his torso, as you inhaled a large gasp. His soft hand against your hip and the other around your waist made you feel safe. Then you felt him press his soft, supple lips against your forehead, and your body reacted with a light shiver. You felt warm, and protected, which was weird since the man holding you together was equally as broken and the infamous Winter Soldier.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you weren’t a bitch to Natasha,”

You smiled, because you knew this was his way of telling you that he was listening and now he’s here for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I'm thinking of changing the story name. Honestly, I started this without a plan, and wanted to get it out there to see the response. So in my haste, I put the most cliche title I have ever heard of. If you have any suggestions, comment them! I'm really excited to see how you guys perceive this story so far.  
> [I've literally hit 95 kudos...WHAAAT]


	12. Chapter 12

You walk out of the bathroom smiling, because you knew that being here with the Avengers meant new challenges, but at least you had someone who was in the same position as you. Bucky walked behind you unaware of your smiling, but very aware of his own. 

 

“BUCK BUCK!” You call from the kitchen. A scowling James Buchanan Barnes pokes his head through the door.

“Don’t call me that, I sound like a chicken.” He grumbles, walking into your view with slumped shoulders. You giggle at his posture as you wiped the dishes with skilled hands. Bucky picks the towel off the bench, still grumbling to himself, as he walked over to the dish rack. “You’d think having Tony Stark around would mean no dishes,” he continues to grumble.

“Hey, don’t tell me you don’t enjoy my presence,” You pouted, halting your movement.

Bucky’s eyes widened, fear etched on his soft features, “No! I really like having you around.” He spoke so fast, and couldn’t retract his words because they had come out too quickly. The statement would’ve likely made Bucky embarrassed, but instead, you blushed with the approach of a compliment. 

“Naw Buck.” You mumble, turning around to put the dishes away. Smiling to yourself, you put the dish you were holding away, only interrupted when you heard Bucky’s heavy breathing.

“Where is that voice coming from?”

You turn around to look at him, in his confused state, when only moments ago he was a grumbling mess of complaints and compliments. You listen attentively, watching as Bucky twitched as if being reprimanded by someone, a look you somehow held familiarity with. “Buck I can’t hear anyth--,”

“STOP!” He roared, pressing his hands against his temples, breathing with hard, laboured breaths. You were taken aback by his outrage, noticing the way his flesh and metal arm clenched and unclenched slowly, as if testing its credibility. His nose flared as he stared at the ground, shaking his head as though he were shaking off a fly.

“Bucky…”You said softly. You felt like you said his name too often. But at the same time, you felt like whenever you call his name, he seems to be dragged down to reality. “Theres no voices,” You try to say as calmly as possible, taking steady steps toward his shivering figure. You outstretched a tentative hand, reaching for his face.

“Fuck!” He yells, looking you dead in the eye. You retracted your hand, feeling antagonised by his stare which seemed to tell you 1000 things at once and yet nothing at all. The veins in his neck were strained, and his mouth parted. You were scared, but you wanted to help. You were worried, but you were too scared to help. The vicious cycle consumed you, and left you rooted to the floor, unable to break free from his gaze. “(y/n)” He said with a strained voice. “Run,” he pushed out. With an audibly loud gasp, you backed out of the kitchen, watching as he dropped to the floor, yelling in pain, as he fought whatever entity possessed his body right now.

Wait, you weren’t witnessing a possession, this could possibly be ten times worse, depending on how you look at it.

And you covered your mouth, backing out of the room, still with your eyes trained on his writhing form. His arms you had once found sanctuary in, were punching the ground. The hair you loved to tease him about, was flying around, some strands matted to his face. It was a picture perfect scene of madness, yet you couldn’t look away.

Suddenly everything stopped. He stopped. Startled, you peer over on your tip toes.

“я готов отвечать.” He breathes out with a deadly tone. The soft tone he used with you was something of the past, but if that wasn’t startling enough, you understood what he had said.

_Ready to comply._

Scared by both the fact that Bucky’s body seemed to be hijacked and you understanding Russian, you collapsed to the wall behind you, relying on its solidarity to keep you from disintegrating. The coolness of the wall against your skin seemed to heighten your senses, although you weren’t sure if it was the doing of the cold, or Bucky writhing on the floor. The Winter Soldier, a ghost story, at least for the majority of the time. The Winter Soldier stood back as he watched Bucky Barnes attempt to rebuild his life. You realise they were not one, but two individuals manifesting the same body. The thought jars you back to reality just in time to swerve against Bucky’s metal arm.

At this point, your heart was pumping furiously, all the oxygen leaving your lungs, but funnily not coming back. You felt suffocated under his pursuit, and soon enough, your back hit the other side of the room.

Panting from no means of physical strain, but purely out of fear, you pulled your fists up, ready to block a punch. The Winter Soldier stared into your skull, punching the wall beside your head with his flesh hand. You flick your eyes up to see the major dent it had made, and could only imagine the destruction to the Stark Tower if were to do the same with the metal hand. As if your thought had triggered a response, the metal arm did just that, punching deep into the foundations of Tony Starks strongly constructed wall.

He towered over you, staring at you. You could feel the internal battle he was having, but you were scared. If you made a move, you’d be pulverised into dust.  
His chest heaved against your own, and you placed your hands flat against his chest, pushing with force, hoping that maybe a stumble from him could be your escape plan.

“Stop that,” He growled, pushing your hands down, before inching his metal arm to your neck. All the while you stared into his eyes, a mindless pit, but beneath fought back a Bucky, struggling for dominance. And instead of pulling tactical punches, you place two hands against his cheeks, the stubble tickling your skin. With your soft touch, you confused the Winter Soldier, who was used to abrupt movements, and calculated manoeuvres. “What are you doing,” He asked, confused.

With your thumb, you feather your touch over his bottom lip. With calculated accuracy, you stood on your tip toes bringing his head down to yours, watching as his eyes fluttered to a close, lips parted with soft breath.

Then you were flung against the wall with a tired ‘oomf’.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um...so its been a year? hi?

This is not how you planned your first kiss to go.  
Definitely not with the Winter Soldier.  
And definitely not in the thick of a deadly battle of dominance between man and parasite.

Of course you had envisioned a gazebo dipped in the smooth haze of the moonlight, the columns only so visible between the twists of the vines and the soft melody of the violin in the background as you slow danced in the middle, gazing into your partners eyes and seeing not just their soul, but the universe – the answer to your existence. Then when the time feels right, he would lean down and place his lips onto yours and you would feel fireworks.

Well here’s the reality check you so desperately wanted to forget about.

Your life clearly does not have an affinity for romance.

“What in the HELL do you think you’re doing?!” Tony yelled, hovering a few spaces from where you were just standing. You realised that he in fact had hit you with his blasters and not Bucky.

“What the hell, Stark?! Was it necessary to blast me that hard?” You groaned.

“That was the lowest level of damage, y/n, stop being so insufferable.”

You scoff, wincing as you got up. “ You couldn’t have hit him?!” you gesture with your head to an unnaturally still Bucky.

“You were the one who was hitting on him first, so I thought maybe he had enough.”

You audibly gasp, eyes widening as you raised your finger to him. “Don’t--,”

But unfortunately your banter with Tony Stark was soon interrupted by the sound of fists connecting with a wall. You both turn to Bucky who is punching the poor wall with earth shattering strength.

“I won’t kill her, I won’t kill her, I WON’T KILL HER!” he yelled with each deadly punch, you were so glad it was a wall and not you. His breaths became huffs as you would assume it would if you physically exerted your strength against plasterboard and concrete. You knew Bucky was fighting. Perhaps physical pain brought him closer to reality than any element of surprise. But you couldn’t just stand there and watch him fight, you had to help.

With slow and steady steps towards him you quietly whisper his name under your breath. Tony made no move to stop you because even he knew that the Winter Soldier was slowly losing his grip. You reach a tender arm out, hand inching closer and closer to the strained muscles on his back, watching them tense as though he sensed your presence. You were sure he knew you were reaching out to him, but he made not definite move to acknowledge you.

That gave you the confidence you needed. Shaky hands rested against his shoulder, and the punching halted. Your other arm rested on his side, slowly snaking around his torso. Slowly, you let your other arm follow till you were holding Bucky together in your arms. His warmth was undeniably reassuring.

“You are stronger than the Winter Soldier, Bucky. You can fight him. I know you can.” You breath out into his shoulder. His head cocks to the side as if he’s beginning to gain control. “You might think you are weak and helpless but my god how wrong you are. You are not weak, just scared, let me help you.”

You felt a warm hand hold your arms, and you almost squeal when you feel a sticky substance you knew was his blood. 

_“Милая моя?” (milaya moya/my sweet)_

You sigh, tears prickling your eyes in relief. “It’s me, Buck.” You smile, hugging him tighter, crying tears you didn't know you had. He pried your hands off him to turn around and look at you. But when he saw your puffy eyes and bloodied forehead he almost cried himself. Your hair was dishevelled, your face was covered in plasterboard dust and the gash on your forehead, my god did it look terrible. At least to Bucky, who thought that he did this to you. So he fell to his knees in front of you with his head bowed crying silent tears. His knuckles bled profusely yet he squeezed his fist in an attempt to punish himself.

Your eyes widened when Bucky's knees hit the floor. Begging for forgiveness you know you had already given him. Frantically, you gripped his shoulders, trying to haul him up. "Bucky what are you doing, get up, lets go get you bandaged up." you sob pathetically. Though still to no avail. He persisted in his silence. "Goddammit Bucky, get up."

"I can't take care of you, _Милая моя_. I can't even protect you from myself." he chokes out. "I promised to guard you with my life, but here I try to take yours."

You fall to your knees in front of him, your vision clouded by your tears. You peer under his mane of hair to get a better look at his face and with a shaky voice you began to speak. "That was not you, you don't have to beat yourself up. You don't have to take responsibility for some crazy Russian experiment. Bucky you take care of me, in more ways than one."he lifts his head ever so slightly, but the pain of seeing you forgive him so easily was too much to bear. You were having none of it, you cup his face in your hands, forcing him to look straight into your eyes.

Those blue eyes of his are going to pierce through your soul one day, because your soft spot for him was only growing. You straddle his waist before bringing his forehead to your lips and cradling his head in your arms. 

To Bucky you felt like home, you are too good to be true.   
To Bucky you are someone he doesn't deserve, you are -in his eyes- truly an angel.


	14. Chapter 14

That night, Bucky went to his room which had been modified by Tony to have sturdier walls than the rest of the tower. Of course he had pitched the idea as being “more capable of withstanding immense strength”, but the idea was to keep Bucky in and everyone else out. Perhaps the word Tony was looking for was “prison”.

You weren’t oblivious to this fact which is why you set out for Bucky’s room, knowing that he needed nothing more than company to calm him down. You halted before the door to Bucky’s room. It was metal, complete with bolts and unsurprisingly, no handles. How were you supposed to enter a handle-less door? You gently try to push against the door, and to no-ones surprise, it would not budge. Thinking only of opening the door, you strode over to the bar where you knew Stark would be hanging out.

Too right you were, he sat on the bar stool, gently swirling his brandy around his glass. You clear your throat, trying to make your face appear intimidating. Stark looks up and sighs at your expression. “Look, I’m sorry about earlier, I know you could’ve handled it, but it was just a precaution,” he explained, his eyes drawn back to his brandy. “I just wanted to make sure he wouldn’t hurt you, but I guess you really have an effect on him.” Was it your confusion clouding your judgement, or was Tony Stark saying he wanted to protect you. You smile at his confession.

“I’m sorry, Stark, I know you mean well, but I guess I’ve been holding a grudge against you since you never explained the red room to me.”

Tony heaves a large sigh “like I said punk, you’ve got to figure it out by yourself.” As he says this, you roll your eyes, you knew that line was coming. No matter how much you tried to think about your past, all you could remember was going to medical school and learning martial arts in college. Somehow you think Stark is insinuating that everything you know is a lie, and that made you extremely uncomfortable.

“I’ll stop talking about it if you’d open Bucky’s room to me.”

Without a seconds hesitation came his short answer. “No.”

You gape at his curt answer. “But you just said that I am the one who can most probably calm him down!” You state incredulously.

“No, I said you have an effect on him.”

“Same thing! Let me see him.”

“No.”

“Stark!”

“What is with the yelling in here?!” came a loud authoritative voice you could only place as Captain America.

‘Not me, just her.” Tony answered jabbing his thumb at you. You scoff incredulously feigning hurt as you put a hand to your chest.

“If you would stop giving me reasons to yell, then we wouldn’t be here!” You snap back.

“Honey I haven’t even started and you’re yelling.” He states nonchalantly.

“Tony!”

“Fondue?” Steve whispers so quietly you almost miss it. But when the words register in your brain you let out a chuckle. He was like a fish out of water when it came to conversing.

“Steve get him to let me into Bucky’s room.” You say sternly. Steve takes the words as a physical blow, jerking back as you delivered you words.

‘Stark let y/n into Bucky’s room.”

You give Steve a disbelieving stare, you had asked for persuasion, not a retelling of your very same command. “Steve!” you coerce him further with your firm voice.

“Okay! Stark look, the only one here we know can actually knock some sense into Bucky when he’s gone all Winter Soldier is y/n, so let her in, he needs someone to talk to.” Steve attempts.

“He’s too unstable, have you forgotten that he’s punched y/n already?”

Steve gives a look of defeat to you, shrugging his shoulders as if to say he’s done everything he can. You glare at him for a few seconds longer, until you realised the two of you were in a silent battle for around 3 minutes with Tony awkwardly looking on.

“Well I guess that’s my cue to leave,” Tony says smoothly, attempting to slide out to the side, and he might’ve succeeded if Steve hadn’t thrown the dirty laundry he was holding, at his face. With a disgruntled sigh of defeat, Tony slumped against the bar counter, eyeing Steve lazily. “Get these off me and y/n can go to Bucky.”

A less than graceful scramble later, Tony’s face is free of Steve’s clothes. The whole time, you sat back and watched the discomfort on Tony’s face. “So you going to open the door, Stark?”

“I was going to open it anyway, I just wanted to see how convincing of an argument you can make. Turns out Steve’s laundry wins this round.” He mutters. You stifle a laughter behind your hand, nodding to Steve before running down the hall to Bucky’s room. Faintly hearing Tony furiously splashing his face with water from the kitchen sink. Your feet already know where to go, which lets your mind wander aimlessly through the blank space of time. More specifically, the possibilities of what you might find inside his room. A tally of how many days spent in captivity etched onto the wall? Probably not, but what good is the imagination if it didn’t concoct creativity.The last few paces proved difficult, maybe nerves? Or the fact that everyone had decided to lock him up at the point where company is the only thing he needs, perhaps to this you feel guilt?

As you pushed open the door with a silent thanks to Stark, you invited yourself in and closed the door behind you. His bed was still made and that alone concerned you. As you surveyed your surroundings more closely, you see him sitting on his armchair and staring out the window – your guess was that it was some extremely tough glass.  
“So now he lets people in.” He says absentmindedly. 

“Just me.” You say, in answer to no question in particular. At the recognition of your voice, his head snaps up and meets your eyes. You can see despair and reluctance behind his eyes. The way he gapes at you is the only reminder of the events that occurred in the morning. He jerks back when you walk toward him, but you continue till you’re a step away from him. Not once did he take his eyes off you, and you could sense his unspoken apology in his silence. “May I?” You ask gesturing to the small space on the armchair he was sitting on.

He gulps in response, nodding his head simultaneously. So you snuggle up beside him, trying your best to keep yourself from over excessive skin-ship…but all the while still relatively close. His left arm twitching at his side, as if it was itching to move away from you.

“Bucky, it wasn’t you, how many times do I have to say that?” You begin. His reluctance to respond was evident in the way he bit his bottom lip and avoided all eye contact with you. “Look, I can help you, if you tell me --,”

“I don’t want to speak about the voices in my head right now.” Bucky interjects.

Your confusion was quickly swatted away. “So what do you want to talk about?” You ask slowly.

Bucky looks at you again with his piercing eyes, clouded over with an emotion you can’t place, yet still made you feel butterflies in your stomach. It only intensified when his gaze trailed down the length of your face before stopping at the nape of your neck. He bit his lip and raised his flesh hand to your shoulder, trailing his fingers along your soft skin. The supple softness of your skin left a thirst for more in Bucky. So he fluttered his fingers so dangerously close to your sweet spot, that you couldn’t help the moan that left your lips. He almost growls in response.

“God, I want you so bad. I want all of you under me as I pleasure you endlessly.” He says breathlessly. “Its come to the point where I even dream about you in my arms.”  
You didn’t expect this, but you welcomed it wholeheartedly. Your body had responded way before your brain did, with wetness pooling in the thin fabric of your panties.

“You make me feel things _милая моя_ , I thought I was void of emotions.” Strangely he doesn’t meet your eyes as he talks to you. “I’m being selfish, having you here to myself when only hours earlier I was trying to kill you.”

And there it is. The insecurities of a confused man, and the deadly thoughts of the Winter Soldier who lives vicariously through the said man. 

“Trust me, you are far from selfish.” You answer, in a uncharacteristic purr.


End file.
